


Liatris

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elrond does give in, Lindir is too grateful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liatris

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s always a flicker of guilt in the act, but it grows smaller every time. Once, he couldn’t connect their eyes for more than a few minutes without having to turn away, the whispers in his head that _this is wrong_ cloying and undeniable. But now he can lay his lover down in the sheets, slip into the prone body waiting for him, and not experience remorse until that first hitch of breath. 

Then it comes again. The tightness that is Lindir’s warm channel, the flush across his creamy skin, the want on his face, so free of lines. He’s young, even for an elf—much too young for an old, tired man like Elrond—and a _servant_ no less. It doesn’t diminish Lindir’s worth, but it does mean that Elrond has a certain _power_ that would be so easy to abuse, and he’s never wanted to hold that sort of power. Especially not over anyone he loves. Yet Lindir watches him with utter trust and breathes his name in such reverence. A hushed, drawled, “ _Elrond_ ,” twisted in desire. 

Elrond affectionately replies, “Lindir.” For all his years and experience, he doubts his own purr is nearly so enticing. But it makes Lindir’s lashes flutter all the same, his plush lips parting; Elrond watches the corners cling to one another and the moisture that glistens beyond. He’s yet to grow tired of looking at his attendant’s face, so very beautiful in all its little details. Lindir pokes out his pink tongue to run across his pale lips, then looks as though he wants to moan a plea, but only gasps as Elrond delivers another steady thrust. His pace is rhythmic and gentle. There have been times, he’ll admit, that he’s given in to taking Lindir fast and hard, in inappropriate places at awkward times. But now they lie in his bed, his attendant against his mattress and the blankets over his shoulders, and he _makes love_ like a proper Elven lord. 

Lindir lifts his trim arms off the sheets to wrap around Elrond’s back, hands tentatively splaying up to his shoulders. Elrond’s elbows are to either side of Lindir’s biceps, his fingers occasionally toying with Lindir’s long, brown hair, spread out along the white pillow. Sometimes, he wonders how he lasted as long as he did. Lindir’s irresistible when he’s silent, but he so often _begs_ , bowing in submission and red with want, whispering in needy little moans for Elrond to _take him_ —and of course, Elrond can’t bare to see him suffer. Even now, Lindir looks as though he might fall apart if Elrond were to leave him.

On each thrust, his body clenches at Elrond’s cock, like it doesn’t want to let go. He arches his chin up, and Elrond cups his cheek, knowing to lean down enough to press their foreheads together. A tremor runs instantly through Lindir’s body, and he whimpers like he’s never felt so at peace in his life. He’s clearly loving every moment. For all his control, Elrond isn’t faring much better. Lindir undresses him to the simplest, deepest of life’s pleasures. Lindir is so very good to him. 

He could grind into Lindir for an age, if he were careful and deliberately slow, and didn’t dare to look too deeply into Lindir’s eyes. But he’s already made that mistake, and their faces have been connected since this round began. It’s as though they’ve conducted an entire conversation without words, and all Elrond’s thought of is his adoring servant, and how lost he’d be without Lindir in this world. The emotion of it makes him as hard as the exquisite press of Lindir’s body, and too soon, he finds himself nearing his edge. 

He would prolong his movements. But he’s distracted by a shimmer of dampness at the corner of Lindir’s dilated, half-lidded eyes. Elrond stills, his shaft embedded in his lover’s channel, and his fingers stroke gently over Lindir’s cheek. He asks, “What’s wrong?”

Lindir gulps. He looks like he’s about to cry, but he lets one hand fall from Elrond’s shoulders to rub at one eye. He shakes his head and murmurs, “Nothing, my lord.”

“I am not your lord here,” Elrond softly reminds him, which makes Lindir chuckle lightly and smile: a radiant sight. The title comes and goes in these moments, ebbed along Lindir’s grasp of his senses.

Shaking his head slightly from side to side, Lindir mumbles, “You will always be my lord.” Before Elrond can protest, Lindir’s pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “I simply... I am sorry. I love you very much, and you know that I always have. I did not think I would be so fortunate. And now that I am...” After the rush, at a loss for words, Lindir breaks off in a sigh. He nuzzles his nose against Elrond’s before finishing, “I’m simply very happy.”

Elrond can’t stop his own smile. Lindir melts him too easily, pulls him down in with delicate arms and long fingers in his hair, and their mouths connect for a lingering kiss. It’s as intoxicating as it always is.

When they part, Elrond turns his head to kiss away Lindir’s tears. Lindir chuckles fondly against his throat, and as soon as Elrond’s drawn back up, he rolls his hips again, falling into the familiar motion. Bliss washes over Lindir’s face at the first new thrust. Elrond’s sure he looks just as pleased: there are few things in this world that feel as good as Lindir’s welcoming body. Somehow, they can’t seem to stay apart. Elrond finds himself descending on Lindir for another kiss, then another, until their mouths are moving at the same rhythm of their hips, unable to detangle.

As close as Elrond is, Lindir finishes first. He releases a tiny cry into Elrond’s mouth, and his hips stutter, his rear clenching suddenly as his cock spurts against Elrond’s chest. Elrond continues his gentle thrusts, making love to Lindir right through the orgasm. The tremors around his cock quickly pull him into following, and he spills himself inside his Lindir with a subdued moan. 

When he’s finished, he still stays. He’s careful to keep his weight off Lindir, but Elrond still lies atop him, basking in the warmth and slightly damp skin, the pervading scent of their release and the floral calling of the flowers on the balcony. The last of the sunlight’s slipped away to leave them in the open stars. 

In a few moments, he recovers himself enough to slip out, enjoying Lindir’s gasp. He settles next to Lindir in the sheets, who quickly turns into him to cuddle close, thrusting one thigh between his and tossing one arm over his waist: pulling them together. Elrond’s smile tugs broadly at his face, and he murmurs, “I am a very lucky elf.” He is, though Lindir beams as though he’s the one with an adoring young attendant that sees to his every whim. 

Lindir doesn’t have to offer a verbal reply. He seems to have spent himself, both physically and mentally, and now he only runs his fingers tiredly through Elrond’s hair, whimsically snuggled up to sleep. 

Elrond follows soon after, unable to regret.


End file.
